


Move On For Me

by FluffyKnight



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Everyone grieves, Sans is dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 10:42:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11965749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyKnight/pseuds/FluffyKnight
Summary: Sans is dying and is at peace with it.





	Move On For Me

The birds were singing their tunes up in the clear, blue skies, filling the background with a soothing noise. Yellow sunlight shined through San's window, painting the room in a golden hue. The particularly gentle, and quiet stories of fairy tales and examples of heroism were being conveyed with less than normally enthusiastic hand gestures from his brother. His weakening hearing was barely gripping on the slippery words of his brother, just barely managing to scrape and latch on the words to understand it. 

His usually very cheerful and energetic little brother had been transformed into a monster of sadness, eye sockets brimming with tears as his bizarrely quiet voice was drawing the words of illustrations of knights saving princesses from dragons. His weakened hands were resting comfortably on both sides of him, already waiting after their final use as his brother told him his favorite bedtime stories. 

He hated the way that a tremor would manage to break through his brother's voice, once in awhile. He also hated the sight of the occasional tears making its path down his brother's face, leaving trail marks behind. He hated how his normally ear-splitting loud voice was reduced to a mere child's whisper. 

He hated seeing his baby brother being incredibly sad. But it couldn't be helped.

At the very least of it all, it had been better than his brother's reaction towards the outbreak of the news. News that would horrify and shock their friends into silence and intense sadness for the past month. 

Sans barely remembered the day Alphys had broken the news to his brother and him, and how it changed everyone forever. His memory was growing fainter and dimmer by the days, but he could latch on to the details that Alphys had described to him and his horrified brother in the laboratory. The details of his diagnosed condition. Something about a dangerously low amount of hope affecting his soul directly. Which wasn't surprising. He knew that his hope was extremely low for a monster, his soul only producing a puny one HP. In fact, he was shocked at how slow it had taken for this inevitable condition to make itself known in his soul.

And he could have very well of prevented it, but he chose not to. It turns out that after years and years of embracing the habit of carelessness formed a strong, unbreakable shield around him. He, in a weird sense, embraced the grasping hands of death. After being burdened of many years, technically a few weeks, of suffering in the underground, and finally being put down, like a sick animal, sprouted a bittersweet feeling in him. 

A bundle of vines, determination, and knives, all across time, would be his eventual downfall. His agonizingly slow downfall, that is. 

Of course, to most all of his friends, it had been completely unknown to what has brought the punny skeleton to his deathbed prematurely. In their vision, he had, just a few weeks ago, had a high dosage of hope in his little, bony system, appearing as if he could take on the entire world itself. Then, unexplainably, drop down to a minuscule one HP in the course of a few days. 

Not to mention the fact that his friends weren't as accepting of his dying state as he was. Unlike his ability to embrace his own death willingly, and happily, all of his friends were frantically trying to shield him from death's doorstep. Alphys, especially, had used up countless, and sleepless days of research into helping with his condition. Attempting to create an artificial way to keep his hopes up was utterly and completely crushed under the weight of reality that Sans was going to be turning into a pile of dust pretty soon. 

His brother had the worst breakdown, out of all. Crying, begging, and attempted help was all that Papyrus could offer him, but he could not care enough about himself before accepting anything from anyone. In the end, all of his friends had accepted the crushing weight of death falling on top of himself. They realized that they could do nothing for him, except be with him and make his last few days on this planet memorable. 

Those said friends were on their way to visit him on his last day before his soul burned out of magic permanently. 

And he knew that this was the day before he would travel through the underworld. He could feel it in his bones. His soul's pathetic attempt at holding on to his quickly draining magic capacity. Yes, nothing more than acceptance on his part, and a little bit of impatience at death's seemingly slow progress at stealing his soul away from the living world. No primal, burning fire of survival in his soul. Just pure tranquility and a little dose of happiness in him.

The door to his room repelled a knock back to both brothers, with Papyrus standing up to open the door to reveal his friends. Friends that looked like they needed a couple jokes or two to lighten them up. But unfortunately, San's voice had already gone out since yesterday, leaving just the gift of hacking coughs and wheezes as a present. His bones were given the same treatment as well, growing thinner and easier to break after the course of the month. Now, a pillow could be thrown at him and his bones would most certainly crack and splinter like an axe taking a swing to a branch. If there was one thing that annoying him, was the aforementioned weakness of his bones. But he could handle it. So what if he looked like he could be crushed under the weight of a feather?

His friends stood around him, a soft human hand and a bony one gripping both of his now useless hands. He could barely hear the gentle questions being handed to him. 

Are you uncomfortable here, Sans? Do you need anything to eat or drink? Do you need an item?

Yet, Sans couldn't speak, nor would have cared to respond, even if he had his voice back to him. His vision was growing dimmer and fuzzier as he looked at the grieving faces surrounding him. 

The hands on his own were tightening, and he could just barely feel the tiny drops of tears falling onto his arm as he felt an urge to close his eye sockets. He could just barely make out the pleads and unheard wishes of his friends reaching out to him and up above to the stars. 

He felt a skeletal kiss touch the side of his skull as colors started seeping out of his picture. His friend's clothing was being melted into the inky black background that was being formed in his vision. Little outlines of their forms being what was left until it would also go blank as well. 

His eye sockets were closing half way now as he saw the last images of his friends and brother's faces melting into pure blackness, along with everything. His soul was giving weaker and weaker pulses. He felt a small smile creep onto his face as his hearing went away. Until he couldn't even feel the smile as his sense of feeling washed away from his grasp.

His eye sockets closed completely, his soul rising and falling slowly. He couldn't feel his limbs breaking down into dust. 

Rising and falling.

Rising and falling. 

Rising and falling. 

Rising and stopping. 

 

 

 


End file.
